


Devotion

by the_fluorescent_fox



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Character Death, Suicide, Then fluff, Unrequited Love, warning for some slurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_fluorescent_fox/pseuds/the_fluorescent_fox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas loses his way and loses himself. Guy guides him back to where they started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for the length, but I promise the next chapter will be longer :) 
> 
> Warning for suicidal thoughts.

Thomas cradled the pills in his hands. The label was smooth and glossy underneath his delicate fingers. The pills rattled inside the bottle as he moved his hand. He felt tired already, his body having been wracked with hysterical sobs. Calm settled over him, his eyes half lidded and his muscles relaxed. The birds were flying across the sky outside, he saw as he stared out the window aimlessly. They were flying to their nighttime roost. He knew because he liked to watch them when he was up in his room all alone in the evenings. When he came home from school, his bookbag was thrown into the corner to be forgotten. Instead of doing his homework, he watched the birds sit on the telephone wires. The birds made him feel less lonely, and he hoped that the birds would be okay once he was gone. He really didn’t want anything to happen to them.

His hands rested on his thighs. Lifting them, he read the label for the hundredth time. Heaving a heavy sigh, he let his hands fall again, as if holding his hands up was a terrible burden. He didn’t really know how many pills he should take. He picked up the glass of water sitting on the bedside table and put the first pill to his lips. 

There were many, many white pills inside of the big bottle. Thomas took as many as he could before he ran out of water. There must have been at least twenty, he assumed, looking out the window again. He hadn’t counted. It was getting dark, and it was getting dark in his bedroom. The birds were probably down in the park where they slept already.

Settling onto his pillows, he watched the sky through the cup, marveling at how the light was bended by the glass. There was so much beauty in the universe. Thomas wished he didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to end it this way. It wasn’t fair, but he had tried everything else. He turned over and stared at the wall, covered with posters and pictures. The Beach Boys poster that was hanging in front of him was a gift from his best friend, Guy Man. Looking at it now made him sad, sad to think that he would hurt Guy or take away from the happy memories he had of him. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, feeling dizzy and nauseous. 

Guy Man… Where would he be right now? Thomas played with his fingernails a bit, wondering to himself, feeling guilty, knowing that this type of daydreaming was what lead him here in the first place. He continued blindly, figuring that he was dying whether or not he thought about Guy. Oh, he was probably in his bedroom, writing music, or doing homework. He could be out walking around, taking a smoke. A familiar, heavy feeling settled in Thomas’s chest. He hoped Guy would be okay without him. He smoked too much and walked around at night like it was no big deal. He was going to get hurt someday, Thomas knew, and that would break him. He wanted Guy to be happy… and without him he would be happiest. A sob escaped his lips. Damn. He thought he was done crying. 

The door slammed downstairs. His father was home, but he wasn’t going to come upstairs for a while. He always stopped to talk with his mother first, before he changed out of his work clothes and put away his work things. Thomas closed his eyes, feeling more tears well up underneath his eyelids. He and his father were close, and had a good relationship. He wished he had written a note, but his vision was growing dark, and he felt like he was running out of time. With a great deal of effort and an overwhelming sense of urgency, he sat up, straining for the bedside table. He needed to leave something to tell his parents that this was not their fault, but as his hand came closer to the drawer’s handle, he slipped and fell and hit his head on the corner of the nightstand. 

“Thomas!” Theresa hollered from the kitchen as a loud noise rattled the cupboards. “Was that you? Are you alright?”

Thomas wheezed, stunned. His mother… she sounded worried. He didn’t want his mother to cry. Suddenly, he wished he hadn’t done this. He moved to stick his fingers down his throat, to throw up every pill he had swallowed, but he was growing weak, and he couldn’t do it. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. His mother was going to cry. His mother was going to cry for him, and he no longer had any power to stop it. He needed to leave a note. This was not what he intended. His hand fell loosely away from his mouth to the floor. 

“Thomas?” Theresa yelled again.

“I’m going to go check on him,” Daniel told her, rushing for the stair. Thomas reached for the drawer, the edges of his vision blurry and dark. He must leave a note… Breathing was becoming difficult. His arms spasmed, his fingers jerking wildly. His muscles relaxed as he fell out of consciousness.

“Holy shit! Thomas!” Daniel screamed, seeing his son sprawled out on the bedroom floor, his body prone and limp, his face pale and tear-streaked. Thomas was vaguely aware of hands holding him up, someone yelling his name, and being picked up before he knew nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short and that the ending is rushed. I'll go back and fix it later, probably. This also kind of a short chapter. I really don't know why I broke this into parts. It would make more sense as a short story, but :T too late, I guess.

One of the most pleasant experiences in life is waking up with a warm hand grasping yours, but Thomas knew that there was something wrong with this. His eyelids flickered open, and immediately he laid eyes on a familiar head of long, brown hair. Guy’s head rested on his shoulder, his own shoulders shaking with sobs. Thomas had half a mind to tell him to lean back up or he would get a killer backache, but as Guy started to talk, he squeezed his eyelids shut and pretended to still be asleep.

“Please wake up. I’m begging you, you have to.” He stroked Thomas’s hand between his own lovingly. “I don’t know why you did this, and I won’t press if you don’t want me to, but you need to wake up. I love you.”

Thomas’s heart stopped for a brief second. Guy moved his hands up to cup his face, his sobs intensifying. Guy didn’t know what he was saying. “Please. I know that it’d only creep you out if I said it when you were listening, but I always… I always imagined growing old with you, and g-getting m-m-married.” His hands dropped to his chest and he pressed his head to Thomas’s chest. 

Thomas tensed. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He opened his eyes a little to make sure it was really Guy. It was, but it broke his heart to see him clinging to him crying so hard. “Just… please be okay. I know that we’re not going to end up together, but at least I had a sliver of a chance when you weren’t… you know.” Although he wanted to reach up and clutch Guy closer to him, he was stiff and sore and frozen with shock, and his leaden arms would not move. He closed his eyes again quickly as Guy sniffed heartily and leaned back. 

“I’m sorry, I guess I’ve got to go now,” Guy apologized, trying to control his sobs. “Please, Thomas, if you can hear me, just rest up and we’ll talk again when you feel better. I just want you to be okay, okay? No more of this, Thomas.” He hesitated at the bedside before leaning down and giving him a swift peck on the forehead, his soft brown hair brushing against Thomas’s cheeks. He smelled like soap and leather. He smelled like home.

His footsteps receded into silence slowly. The noises of the hospital filled his ears instead, noises that were not nearly as comforting as the sound of his best friend, no matter how disconcerting it was to hear him so distressed. He shook a little bit on the hard mattress, feeling confused and disoriented. His eyes snapped open and he looked around. His bed was veiled by a curtain, but if he just leaned out a little bit, he could throw the boring beige cloth away to reveal the hospital ward he was staying in. Biting the inside of his cheek, he studied the rows of beds, not seeing his parents anywhere. His heart sank. He wondered if they had stayed while he was out.

Speaking of which, he also not idea how long he had been unconscious either. He squinted at the clock on the wall, which said that it was around seven o’clock at night. He leaned back onto the pillows and sighed heavily, tears stinging at his eyes. His parents weren’t eating dinner, like he had imagined. His shoulders shuddered, and he angrily wiped at his eyes. Why would they be here, with their selfish, piece of shit son? Why should they care? They probably hated him. He hated him. 

“Mr. Bangalter, I see you’re awake… Are you alright?” A concerned voice startled him. He looked up into the nurse’s face. 

“Um, yeah, I’m okay,” he lied, wiping his eyes and nose quickly. 

“Do you need me to call your parents? They told me to call them when you woke up. They’ve only been gone about an hour, so they should be back very soon,” he asked softly, kneeling down to be on the same level as Thomas.

“Why did they leave? How long did they stay? How long have I…?” He asked, covering his face with his hands and breathing heavily. His back heaved with sobs. 

“They just left for a little while to change their clothing and shower, I assume. They’ve been here for nearly a day and a half,” the nurse consoled. “Shh, shh, they’ll be back.” He patted Thomas’s shoulder. There was nothing more Thomas wanted than to have his mother and father here with him, comforting him themselves. Copious tears rolled down his face. They wouldn’t though. They wouldn’t care. A tortured cry escaped him. 

“I’m going to go call them now. Do you want someone to stay with you?” He stood up and looked at Thomas nervously. 

“No!” He cried. “I just want my mom.” 

“Okay. I’ll be right back with your parents. Don’t worry,” the nurse called to him as he hurried away. Thomas laid back in bed, miserable. He felt like a child, howling for his parents. God, he was selfish. He was so unbelievably selfish, to think his parents would want to see him after what he’d done. 

And they would of course bring up Guy at some point, which would only make him feel worse. Guy had been horribly, horribly mislead. He said he loved him. He said he wanted to grow old with him. Thomas couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe that someone would want to spend that much time with him. He knew Guy wasn’t lying; what was the point of a lie if no one was around to hear it? No, Guy was seeing a warped view of Thomas. He was lying to Guy, practically. He pulled the itchy, starchy sheets up to his ears and let himself slide into complete misery. 

And how useless was he anyways? He could’ve just told Guy that he was wasting his time when he was there with him. It would’ve saved them both the time and pain of the slow, excruciating process of drifting apart that would surely come. He reached up to wipe his eyes, but at this point, he was soaked with tears and it hardly made a difference. Guy was his only true friend. Sure, he had his buddies here and there, but none of them understood him like Guy did. They were with him for the good times, but not the bad. They probably hadn’t seen this coming. But then again, neither did Guy, apparently.

He should go home and take more pills, he thought bitterly, choking on air. There was nothing else he was good for. His parents hated him, Guy was going to hate him, everyone at school hated him. What else was there to do? It was best for everyone. He buried his face in the hard pillow, inhaling the smell of harsh disinfectants. 

“Thomas, it’s okay!” Theresa exclaimed upon entering the curtained area. She rubbed his back firmly and tried to lift him up from the pillow. He complied easily, reaching out for her. Gladly, she took him into her arms and ran her hands through his curly hair as he sobbed into the junction of her neck and shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re here.”

Thomas felt his mother start crying almost as soon as the embrace began. He could hear the fogginess in her voice as her throat got tied in knots. He clung tighter to her, feeling like shit for ever wishing to overdose, for ever being born. She would be so much happier with another child instead. 

Daniel sat next to him on the bed and patted his back, struggling to hold back from crying as well. “You didn’t need to hide this, you know,” he blurted. “We’re here for you. We love you, Thomas.”

“I’m sorry!” Thomas howled. “I didn’t, I just… I mean…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Daniel apologized swiftly, “I didn’t mean it that way. You’re okay. I love you.”

He cried for what seemed like forever, until he was too tired to cry anymore. He leaned back onto the pillows and rubbed his achy eyes and cleared his sore throat. Theresa and Daniel stared at him sympathetically. “Thomas…” Theresa started, grabbing her son’s hand and holding it tightly. “We need to ask you why you did this.”

He shifted uncomfortably. He couldn’t tell her about Guy. He couldn’t tell her about all the stress or the self-loathing. He couldn’t tell her about his sexual orientation without fearing her reaction. He opened his mouth, hoping that a lie would formulate itself by the time he started to speak, but nothing came out. They awaited an answer patiently. Thomas decided to tell a half truth. “I’m miserable.”

“Why?” asked Daniel.

Thomas’s lip trembled. “I-I-I don’t know,” he lied. “I’m tired.”

“Do you want to go to sleep?” Theresa asked. “Should we leave or stay here?”

“Go home and get some rest,” he replied. They would go home and they would realize how pathetic he was, but it didn’t bother him so much when he was this spent. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts. 

“Here’s my cell phone, Thomas,” his father said, handing him the bulky Nokia that he used mainly for work. “I’ve told my colleagues that they should call me on the home phone, so you don’t have to worry about it ringing in the middle of the night and waking anyone up. If you need us, just call. I love you, Thomas.” He pressed a kiss to the top of the head.

“Sleep well,” Theresa whispered, not moving from her place. 

“Bye, Mom,” Thomas murmured. 

She stood at the bedside, hesitating. “I love you, Thomas.”

“I love you too, Mom,” he murmured. “It’s late. Go home and get some rest.”

“Make sure you get some rest too,” she warned. “It’s been a tough day. You need some sleep.” She kissed him as well. “Bye.”

He leaned back and pulled the covers up to his chin, trying to block out the noises of the hospital ward. There were so many things that he longed for, but he could only find the words to ask for one thing-- he wanted Guy to be there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there are homophobic slurs in this chapter, so if you'd get triggered or offended by them, there's a chapter summary in the author's notes at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally i do not even know why
> 
> but anyways sorry for updating so late. I was really busy with school, so I didn't have any time to work :T

The hospital was boring before visiting hours. The machines whirred and beeped, and the nurses’ shoes clacked on the tile floors as they ran up and down the rows of beds. Thomas drummed his fingers on his thighs, sighing. When he woke up that morning, he called his parents and asked them to come around lunchtime so they could eat together, but now he was wishing that he had asked them to come earlier, just so he didn’t have to sit there all alone. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Visiting hours started in fifteen minutes. Maybe some other visitors would come. He knew they wouldn’t, but it was nice to hope. 

Just as the clock struck eleven, Guy strutted into the room with the same quiet collectedness he always had about him. Thomas’s heart jumped to his throat and he squirmed in his bed, readjusting the blankets nervously. 

“Thomas! You’re up,” he exclaimed, rushing over to him. He leaned over and wrapped his arms around him, enveloping him in a warm, comfortable hug. Thomas pressed his face into his shoulder and inhaled the smell of his leather jacket, his heart pounding in his chest. “I was worried about you,” he whispered in his ear. Thomas pulled him closer, his long, brown hair tickling his face. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I couldn’t help myself. I just…” His chest contracted, the words dying in his mouth. He couldn’t explain why he wanted to stop living, not to his parents or his best friend. Guy pulled back, letting his hands linger on Thomas’s shoulders. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,” Guy assured him with a light pat on the back. He moved around the bed to sit on the chair next to the bed. The privacy drapes were still open on one side, and Thomas could see the disapproving looks the family next to him was giving him. He turned himself so he was facing away from them and looking at Guy instead. 

“Everyone at school misses you,” Guy said softly. “Mr. Winters wanted me to tell you that he misses having you in class.”

“What a load of bull,” Thomas scoffed. “That’s just something people say when somebody tries to kill themselves. Otherwise, they look like heartless monsters.”

“I don’t know. He seemed like he meant it,” Guy shrugged. His fingers scratched on the bedspread near Thomas’s hand. Idly, he traced patterns onto the rough cotton. Thomas folded his hands on his lap. A fluttery feeling sat on his heart like a flock of birds. 

“Does anybody from school know why I’m here?” He finally asked nervously.

“No. Only a couple of people know that you’re in the hospital. Your parents called to tell me,” Guy explained, pausing for a minute. “They also asked if I knew anything about this.”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I just- well, sometimes, it feels like I’m more trouble than I’m worth.” He turned his head away from Guy. The other boy and his parents kept glancing at them. His face flushed. 

“No, no,” Guy murmured, touching his shoulder. “That’s not true.”

“Well, here you are, sitting beside my hospital bed,” Thomas muttered, slightly irritated. Why did Guy love him? It made no sense to him. His fists curled and uncurled around the blankets. Guy fixed him with a quiet stare, his blue eyes soft, but his face stern.

“I promise that you are worth it,” Guy said, rubbing his arm. “I will be here for you.”

Thomas looked him in the eyes and leaned into his touch. Guy said he loved him. Surely there couldn’t be anything wrong with the two of them. There was nothing wrong with this love, he tried to convince himself. Slowly, his qualms momentarily faded away, leaving him gazing wistfully into Guy’s eyes.

Guy’s gaze was soft and warm, and he felt himself drifting closer to him. There was nothing wrong with a kiss, was there? Guy’s breath was warm on his cheek. Neither of them knew which one of them started the kiss, but suddenly, their clumsy teenage lips were on each other’s. A warm feeling crept over the both of them. Guy sighed contentedly, his warm breath tickling Thomas’s cheek. 

“I love you,” Guy whispered, pulling back. 

“I love you too.” 

Guy cupped his face and stroked his cheek lovingly. “Please, please promise me that that had nothing to do with this,” he begged, gesturing at the IV on Thomas’s wrist. Thomas took a deep breath and shook his head sadly. Guy sighed, and kissed his forehead. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wanted to, I just couldn’t find the right time,” Guy admitted. Thomas nodded. Guy seemed vaguely distracted by something on the other side of the ward. Thomas looked in the other direction and saw the family that had been glaring at them talking to the nurse. He felt his stomach plummet. 

Guy pulled away and muttered a couple curses as the nurse approached them with a cruel look. Thomas shrank back into the bed, all of his fear returning to him with a jolt. 

“Excuse me,” she said as Guy rose to his feet and moved around the bed to stand between him and Thomas. “We’re going to have to ask you to leave. You’re upsetting other patients and agitating Mr. Bangalter.” Thomas squirmed under the nurse’s cold stare. 

Guy snorted angrily and rolled his eyes. “Tell them to close their fucking privacy drapes. We’ll close ours.”

The nurse flushed red and gritted her teeth. “I’m sorry, but you really must leave your friend to rest.”

“I’m fine,” Thomas protested. “He can stay.” His fingers worked nervously at the cotton as the nurse glowered down over him. Guy puffed out his chest aggressively and put his hands on his hips, pushing the nurse out of Thomas’s space. 

“I’m afraid I have to insist,” the nurse growled through gritted teeth. Guy looked up at her, catching her gaze and holding it steadily. His eyes flashed with hurt and fury, his nose crinkling with disgust. He took a deep breath and turned to face Thomas. 

“I probably should leave, before they call security or something,” he sighed. “Call me when you get home, okay?” 

Thomas nodded wordlessly, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Guy hesitated at his bedside, his hand floating oddly next to his body like he wanted to reach out to him, but as the nurse crossed her arms and cleared her throat, he quickly shoved his hand into his pocket and strode away, glancing back over his shoulder longingly. 

“God, I can’t believe they let that fag in here,” the other boy scoffed. Thomas pulled his arms close around himself, his chest squeezing. He bit his lip and tried to block out his voice, tried in vain to replace it with Guy, kind, sweet Guy. Guy, who would never hurt anyone, Guy, who was always gentle. His throat tightened and he sniffled pathetically. Guy, who was so nice and so foolish that he fell for him. 

The nurse was not walking away, and stood over him menacingly. Tears pricked in his eyes, and he wiped them away furiously. She huffed under her breath and walked away, her heels clicking on the cold floor rhythmically, like clockwork. Thomas let his eyes follow her sensible looking flats down the hallway, leading his line of sight to the family sitting next to him. 

“I thought he was in here for attempted suicide. Stupid cocksucker. He should’ve died like he intended,” the father snorted. “One less queer for us to have to deal with.” 

He could feel his face burning red, and he wanted to crawl away underneath the shitty linoleum tiles forever, just to get out from under their gazes. The nurse walked away without closing the curtain. The IV in his arm prevented him from getting up to close it himself. A searing hot tear rolled down his cheek, to his chagrin. He could hear the mother scoffing at him, mocking him. His lip quivered against his will and he clamped it tightly between his teeth. He brought his legs up to his chest and hid his face behind his crossed arms.

Guy took long, energetic strides down the hallway, his body tensing with anger and frustration. If he knew anything about his best friend, it was that Thomas dealt with harassment very badly. He had probably tormented himself ever since he woke up in the hospital, and the last thing he needed was a bunch of fucking douchebags putting their noses in his personal life. He had probably cried until he was hysterical these past few days, and now he was probably doing it again. Fucking fantastic. He felt his heart ache for him, and he brushed away the dampness forming at the corners of his eyes. 

Guy was so absorbed in his thoughts that he almost didn’t hear his name being called from the other side of the lobby. He spun around, looking for the voice. Theresa waved to him from where she and Daniel had just come into the hospital. His hopes leapt. He ran over to her, struggling to compose his thoughts. 

“Did you see Thomas?” Daniel asked. “Is he alright?”

“He was when I got there, but now…,” Guy trailed off, unable to find the words to continue. “Well, they kicked me out.”

“Guillaume,” Theresa said in a warning tone, “what happened?”

“Nothing, well, no, but,” Guy spluttered and sighed heavily. “We just kissed and then this other family that was there and the nurse flipped out on us,” he whispered, leaning in, his brows furrowing. “I don’t know what to do. He’s probably a mess right now, and I don’t think the nurse will help him.” He cleared his throat to get rid of the tight knot that was constricting his breath, but it only served to pull it tighter. His cheeks flushed and he pursed his lips to keep a straight face. 

Theresa and Daniel shared a look and immediately started running down the hall. Daniel gestured vaguely for Guy to follow, so he set off running as well, close on their heels, his pulse racing. His legs felt weak, but he ran surefooted down the hallway, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. Theresa threw the ward doors open with a loud crash.

All it took was one look at Thomas, his brown eyes welling with tears and his face flushed with shame, and Theresa was angrier than Guy had ever seen her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guy Man came to visit Thomas in the hospital and they kissed in front of a homophobic family. Guy Man got thrown out of the hospital ward, and on his way out of the building, he meets up with Thomas's parents. They make him tell them what happened, and once they hear about it, they go back to the ward to stick up for Thomas.
> 
> I don't think there'll be anymore slurs in this fic, so I don't think you guys will have to miss out on anything else :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that I'm so late updating this! to be honest, I forgot I was working on anything because of all the confusion with the end of school. I should be wrapping this up soon, so there'll probably be... three more chapters, at the most.

“Excuse me.” 

Guy rushed over to Thomas’s side, placing a protective hand on the small of his back. The tone of Theresa’s voice sent a shiver through them both, although Guy wasn’t sure whether the way Thomas was quivering beneath him was due to that or the fact that he looked like he was about to explode from the way he was holding back tears. 

“Do you feel like explaining why my son looks like he’ll start crying?” Theresa growled in a clipped tone as soon as she had the nurse’s attention. 

“I don’t know,” the nurse shrugged. “He’s got depression, doesn’t he?” Thomas’s bottom lip quivered and he made a tortured noise. Guy’s grip instinctively grew tighter. 

“Depression doesn’t usually make you cry for absolutely no reason. He was upset by something,” Theresa scolded. 

“Depression makes you cry about stupid things. Maybe the way the blankets were tucked in was offending him, I don’t know,” the nurse sniffed. Guy felt a violent surge rise within him, and fought it back for Thomas’s sake. 

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. I don’t know how you got your job, but you’re doing it terribly,” Theresa reprimanded. “Now, we were told that we were allowed to take Thomas home today, so that’s what we’re going to do right now. We have better things to be doing than sitting here, dealing with incompetent nurses.”

“I have to call a doctor in to let you do that,” the nurse protested, turning red in the face. 

“Then you’d better do it. Come on, Thomas, here’s a change of clothing,” Theresa cooed, pulling a large freezer bag full of clothes out of her purse. Thomas took it from her with shaky hands. “Guy Man, thank you for coming with us, but I’d think you’d better go home now. Your parents must be wondering where you are,” she whispered to Guy, touching his elbow gently. Guy nodded, and Theresa gave him a motherly kiss on the cheek. 

Guy’s hand lingered on Thomas’s back as he reluctantly walked away. He could feel the icy stares of the other family on his back as he left the ward and felt so uncomfortable in those few seconds that he wondered how Thomas had kept it together for the time it had taken for them to get back into the room. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he sent out a silent prayer, hoping that Thomas would be okay.

…o0o…

“Well, you should be okay physically, but are you sure that you don’t want to stay a little while longer, just so we can make sure that you’re in a safe place emotionally?” The doctor asked, closing Thomas’s chart and resting it on her hip.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Thomas reassured her, smiling in what he hoped was a convincing manner. To be honest, he wasn’t so sure he was going to be okay outside of the hospital, but he sure as hell wanted to get away from the family on the other side of the ward. 

“Alright, we’ll just step outside while you get dressed and then you can go down to the front office and get checked out,” the doctor smiled, moving out onto the ward floor and closing the privacy drapes. Thomas slid off the bed and shimmied out of the uncomfortable hospital gown. Standing naked next to the bed, he let go of a deep breath and willed himself to just get the fucking clothes on so they could just go home. He tore open the bag, sliding the clothing out onto the blankets. His mother had packed his favorite green shirt and the most comfortable pair of jeans he owned. She knew him well. 

Not well enough, though. His parents had never said anything bad about homosexuals, but his parents were reserved people, and rarely spoke about politics or civil rights movements. Would they love their son if they knew he was gay, or were they going to give him hell, like everyone else would? Would he and Guy have to keep it in the closet, or was Thomas’s home a safe place? Hell, he didn’t know. He assumed his parents knew about the kiss though. Why else would Guy come back, even though he knew he wasn’t welcome? How else would his mother have known that Thomas was upset unless Guy told them? He felt sick.

Mechanically, he pulled his arms into the sleeves of his shirt and tried to ignore the feeling that was growing in his stomach. It felt like he was being gutted alive. His fingers fumbled over the buttons, clumsily pulling them through the holes. It took him a few minutes to get all of them in, but as he straightened the collar, he realized that he had missed a hole at the bottom and the shirt was out of line. He threw his hands down to his sides, sighing, tears welling in his eyes. He couldn’t even button a fucking shirt. Whatever, he would just go home looking like a goddamn lunatic who couldn’t even dress themselves. He knew he looked like hell. 

Wiping away the tears angrily, he pulled on his boxers and pants. Simple, simple tasks. There was no way he could mess this up, but as he was buttoning the jeans, he noticed that he had caught the corner of his shirt in the zipper. He unzipped it and tugged it out, sighing at the frayed ends. What a fucking idiot, walking out of a hospital with a torn, improperly buttoned shirt. It was no wonder that family wished he was dead.

He batted away the drapes and walked over to his family, his eyes trained on the floor. He felt worse than he had when he tried to kill himself. He hadn’t even thought that was possible. The doctor smiled at him, so he tugged the corners of his mouth back, giving her a fake, plastic grin in return. Daniel rested a large hand on his back as they lead him down the hallways and into an elevator. Thomas wanted to run away, or disappear, or hide underneath the tile on the floors, or something, anything that would just get him out of here, out of his head. Sullenly, he rubbed his foot across the tiles, mulling it over slowly. 

He couldn’t try pills again. His parents would’ve most surely locked the medicine cabinets and thrown away any excess medication. Secondly, he felt like shit, and he really didn’t want a repeat of this experience. Besides, if he tried to overdose again, he could very easily be saved if he was found soon enough, and that was no good. He rubbed his lower lip thoughtfully. He could jump into the Seine, but he was afraid of heights, so he probably wouldn’t be able to go through with it. Same went with jumping off of any buildings. He didn’t have a gun, or even know where he could find one, so shooting himself was out. He didn’t want to hang himself because he knew that it would be a slow, painful death. If he didn’t fall right, he could be hanging there for nearly a half an hour to an hour slowly suffocating. No, no, no, that wouldn’t do. He didn’t want to suffer. 

But then there was Guy. Guy, who had clung to him sobbing, clearly distressed by his friend’s attempted suicide. Thomas couldn’t bring himself to imagine what Guy would’ve been like if he had succeeded. They’d been such good friends for so long. He would never be the same if he died. He told Thomas he wanted to marry him…

And then there was that. That would never happen. It couldn’t and it hurt so much to know. He pursed his lips and willed himself not to cry until he was at home. He could feel the flush rise on his face, the blood rushing through him like the tide. His eyes were uncomfortable, the unpleasant, watery feeling that occurred when someone had been crying for too long. He wanted Guy there. He wanted Guy. 

The noises at the nurses’ station seemed very far away to him. Energy moved down from the top of his head, down his back and out through his feet, leaving his heels and toes tingling. He was looking down the hall but he wasn’t seeing anything. He was trapped; he couldn’t move, and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to. 

He could just stay there forever, become one with the foot traffic and never have to worry again.

Fade into the paint on the walls and become invisible.

He could stay there, watching the world from a higher level of existence like a ghost. 

Then he wouldn’t have to worry about Guy, and his parents, and the family in the ward, and people like them, and most importantly, himself. He wished that was what it was like when you tried to kill yourself, drifting out of consciousness like waking up from a dream. 

To be honest, he wished that more things were like that. A hazy transition from one thing to the next with no discernible lines between events. He felt disconnected, like he was going to float away, until his mother placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s time to go, Thomas,” she said softly. “Come on.”

Slowly, he and his parents made their way down the hall and out of the hospital. It was raining outside, and since Thomas didn’t have a jacket, he quickly became soaked. Luckily, the Bangalters hadn’t parked very far away. He opened the side door and slid inside, shaking his hair free of water. His mother opened the other side door and sat next to him in the back instead of sitting next to his father, like she usually would. His stomach tossed. 

As Daniel started the car, Theresa rested a hand on top of Thomas’s. “We talked to Guy-Man before we came to get you, Thomas,” she began in a soft voice. His skin crawled, and he wished he was anywhere but in the car. “What happened he went to visit you?”

“We talked. He’s my friend,” he mumbled. 

“Nothing more? He said that something else happened,” she prompted gently, taking her hand away. Thomas took a deep breath, willing himself not to cry. His mother was going to hate him. He was going to disappoint his father. His bottom lip quivered. 

“N-nothing else happened,” he lied. 

“Thomas, it’s okay to tell us,” she whispered. He looked out the window, biting his lip.

“We just want to help, and get down to the bottom of what’s troubling you,” Daniel added. “We promise that no matter what you answer, we won’t judge you.”

Well, that’s what a lot of people said, and they were all liars. People were judgmental by nature, and at his age, Thomas had learned that. That’s what his friends said. Oh, we’d never judge anyone for being gay, they said, but then they were just standing by when they started beating up the school fag. He wiped a tear from his cheek. Is that all he was going to be to people? A punching bag? 

“Guy-Man said that he kissed you,” Theresa continued. 

“Fine, alright, he did!” he shouted, slamming his hands into his lap. “He kissed me, because I’m gay and I love him. I love him, and I’m gay, alright? Alright? Do you love your faggot of a son? Do you?” He was shrieking now. “I love him,” he sobbed, “it hurts. I hate it. I hate this!” 

“Thomas, it’s all right,” Theresa blurted, alarmed, patting him on the back. Thomas flinched and moved away from her touch. 

“Don’t lie to me!” he hissed. “That’s all they ever do. You hate me, you hate me like that other family. I bet you wish I was that other boy. I bet you wish I was dead!”

“We don’t think that!” Theresa gasped. 

“I want to die,” he howled, sobbing. 

Daniel turned the car around. “I’m going back to the hospital. He’s not going to be okay.”

“We can’t go back there!” Thomas screamed. 

“He’s right. There’s another hospital across town. Go there instead,” Theresa suggested. 

Thomas pressed himself against the car door and resigned himself to weeping for the rest of the ride. Theresa mopped at her eyes with a ragged tissue she found in the bottom of her purse, her heart aching for her son. The car ride must have only lasted about a half an hour, but it felt like it would never end.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theresa makes a phone call.

The evening news played quietly in the other room as Theresa picked up the phone. She sighed and leaned against the wall, mulling her choices over. Of course, Guy Man would never forgive her if she put Thomas back in the hospital without telling him, but at the same time, she wondered if it was good for the two to be seeing each other at this delicate time. Guy Man was a supportive and responsible young man, but clearly the details of their relationship were putting a large strain on Thomas. There was nothing wrong with a romantic relationship at some point in the future, but she hardly thought that it could be helpful if Thomas was already so ashamed of who he was. 

However, she figured that it could be even worse if Guy Man didn’t visit, especially since she wasn’t planning on telling Thomas that she didn’t tell Guy. He could start believing that Guy Man didn’t want to see him, which would definitely cause a great deal of stress. She could wait, she thought. See how Thomas was doing, and then make a choice from there. She sighed and rubbed her lip. 

No, Guy was better at reading Thomas than any of them. If he was uncomfortable with the relationship, Guy would know and he would back off. She dialed his number and waited. 

Mrs. de Homem Christo picked up on the last dial. “Theresa!” she exclaimed. “I just heard about Thomas this morning. I’m so sorry. Is he alright?”

“He’ll be okay,” she told her hesitantly. “That’s actually what I’m calling about. I need to speak to Guy Man please.”

Mrs. de Homem Christo set down the phone and hollered at Paul to get his brother. With a loud, disgruntle moan that could be heard on the other end of the line, Paul threw himself off the couch and stomped up the stairs. Guy Man ran down the stairs two steps at a time and grabbed the phone from his mother.

“Mrs. Bangalter!” he exclaimed. “What is it? Is he hurt?”

“No,” she sighed, “not really.” At least she knew that she had made the right choice. Guy Man sounded as though he was ready to kill for her boy. “He’s in Saint John’s Hospital now, across town.”

“Did he relapse? I knew he was cutting for a while, but I thought he stopped. Or was he sick again?” Guy Man blurted. 

She was shocked to hear about Thomas’ self harm, but she supposed that it made sense. There were some unexplained razor blades that she had found under the radiator in his room, but she thought that they had fallen there by mistake. Secondly, he seemed very adverse to the idea of wearing short sleeved shirts, even in the summertime. She switched the phone to the other ear. “I didn’t know he was cutting. He got pretty upset in the car on the way back home, so we took him back so we could avoid something like that,” she explained. “Now, since you won’t be able to walk over to the hospital—“

“Mrs. Bangalter, with all due respect, if this was your way of keeping Thomas and I apart, it’s not going to work. I love him, and I am going to find some way to get to him. Besides that, he’s my best friend, and the worst thing you could be doing right now is isolating him. If he decided that he didn’t want to see me, he could tell me himself,” he said defensively, shooting off a long speech for someone so quiet.

She sighed with relief and leaned against the wall casually. “Well, Guy Man, it sounds as though you’re quite the romantic. It’s certainly not what I would’ve expected from you. But, luckily enough, I’m quite the romantic too. What I was going to say was that we can give you a ride to the hospital if you want to see Thomas. Although, I’m glad to see that you’re so keen to defend your relationship. You’ll need it in this world,” she said. 

On the other end of the line, Guy blushed. “Sorry, I got carried away. It’s just that—“ he looked over his shoulder into the hallway. He had moved into the dining room, which was the room farthest away from where his mother was. “My mother wouldn’t approve. And I didn’t want you to get between us like she would.”

“I’d never dream of it,” she assured him. “And Guy Man?”

“Yes?”

“You always have a home with us if you need one.”

Guy opened his mouth, but no words seemed to do to tell her how grateful he was. “I- I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, his eyes beginning to water. “Thank you.”

“Any time, Guy. Anyways, I was thinking that we could leave at around ten in the morning tomorrow? I hope you don’t mind staying there for a while. We were planning to stay for most of the afternoon,” she said.

“Of course not. That’ll be good. I’ll walk over to your house tomorrow,” he said.

“We can pick you up if you want,” she said.

“Well, yeah, but I like the exercise, and there are a couple of things that I think Thomas would like to have. I’ll pick them up tomorrow,” he explained hesitantly. 

Theresa wondered what he meant, but decided not to pursue it. “Sounds good. See you at ten!”

Guy walked slowly back to the kitchen to hang up the phone. Thomas’ home seemed far more welcoming than his own. Paul was okay, but he was growing up to be much more like his parents than Guy had hoped. Hopefully, once he moved out of the house and out of their influence, he would get his head out of his ass. 

If Guy had a nickel for every time his parents complained loudly about “those damn homosexuals,” he would be rich enough to pack a bag and run away with Thomas forever. He threw the phone back onto the cradle with a small click. 

“How’s Thomas?” Mrs. de Homem Christo asked.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I’m going to go see him tomorrow at ten. I might not be home until late.”

She nodded, and resumed washing the potatoes in the sink. If he didn’t come home, she might not even care. The prospect of that was appealing. He turned and went back upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like idk what this chapter's ending is I'm sorry
> 
> tbh im prolly gonna go back and revise this whole fic and then post that instead
> 
> this is based off a series of asks sent to waltrewhite on tumblr, back when she was in the fandom, if anyone was interested in knowing. the reason that this is a chaptered fic (not counting that I'm an absolute fucknugget who has no patience to finish something to its entirety) is because each of the chapters is a separate ask.
> 
> oh, lastly, I'm not sure if Saint John's is an actual hospital in Paris, but there is a Saint John's in my city, so I just went with that because I'm an absolute fucknugget with no patience, which was stated before.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HHHEYYYYYYYY LOOK WHOS BACK AFTER 3 YEARS
> 
> I just really suddenly remembered that I wrote a fanfic in middle school and I wanted to find it so I could laugh at how much it sucked, but then I found that it didn't suck quite as much as I thought and then decided to finish it because nice people on the internet told me to
> 
> its actually pretty tough to figure out where I was going with this, because the asks that I was basing this on (between myself and tumblr user waltrewhite) are pretty much lost to time because waltrewhite deleted her tumblr and then I deleted my tumblr
> 
> so I made up a new ending that's hopefully not complete shit
> 
> also I changed the title because the old one had fuck-all to do with the plot

Stepping out into the sunshine, he felt like a little kid again. The sidewalks seemed so neat, the sky so blue, the air so fresh on that day in late spring. The stress of the week melted away for a needed moment, and Guy just basked in the light, standing on the sidewalk with his hands in his pocket before setting out for Thomas’ house. 

Guy had been aware of Thomas’ condition for quite a while, and in some ways he was relieved that it had finally come to a head because since it was out in the open it could be addressed and resolved, and he wouldn’t have to resort to going behind Thomas’ back to get him much needed help. But even as he had watched Thomas go into decline, kowtowing to his pleas to keep it from his parents, he never stopped trying to cheer him up. Even if it took all afternoon of hard work just to see one smile, it was worth it for the way the corners of his brown eyes creased, for the curve of his lips, and for the assuring knowledge that not all of that day was black for Thomas. 

In particular, he wanted to bring Thomas a blanket he had lent him at a sleepover once and then let him take home. He knew that Thomas kept in on his bed, claiming that it was only warmer than his other blankets and nothing else. Guy saw through him easily now. He also wanted to bring him a photo album, if he could find it. The photo album was full of pictures during a vacation to the country. Thomas’ family had taken Guy along after Thomas begged not to be separated from Guy for an entire three weeks. That had been during summer break, right before Thomas’ mental health had taken a significant turn for the worse. Of course, Guy clearly hadn’t known the full extent of it, but he hoped that the pictures would bring back good memories from not so long ago. 

At the very least, Guy hoped that the photo album would open the discussion to the good times they had had, because they had had good times before all the pain started growing oppressive. Perhaps he could diagnose what had changed for Thomas and reassure him that good times were on the rise again. 

He walked briskly up the steps of Thomas’ house, having arrived without thinking about where he was going. He pulled the screen door open and stepped inside. 

The house was mostly quiet, except for the noise of the television playing softly in the living room in the back of the house. “Hello, Theresa, Daniel!” he called. “I’m going to go upstairs to get something, but I’ll be ready to go in a minute.” No one answered. He frowned, but went upstairs anyways, figuring they might also be upstairs getting ready to leave. 

The door of Thomas’ bedroom swung open quietly when he made his way inside. He stopped cold in his steps. Theresa sat on Thomas’ bed, her eyes red and puffy from crying. Guy was at a loss for words, unsure of how to comfort her in her grief. She sniffled, surprised by his sudden entrance, and wiped her eyes. “Don’t be shy, Guy,” she murmured, reading his mind. “I’ll be ok.”

“I came to… get some things for Thomas,” Guy explained. 

“You told me on the phone,” Theresa said, sliding off the bed, her bare toes flexing against the wood floor. “What was it you wanted?”

“This blanket.” Guy came to the bedside and tugged on the simple blue quilt. “I was also wondering, if it isn’t too hard to find, if you knew where the photo album from last spring was? You know, when we went to the cottage together?”

“Oh, of course, it’s in the living room,” Theresa said. “I love looking at it. You boys look so happy…” she trailed off wistfully.

Guy nodded slowly, lowering his eyes. “I thought so too. That was right before Thomas started thinking all these awful things about himself, and I think that if he sees what we used to have, I could make him see how we can have it again.” He pursed his lips and looked out the window. “I know we can have it again.”

“Come with me, Guy-Manuel.” Theresa beckoned as she left the room and started downstairs. He followed close behind her. 

She shut the television off. Daniel sat sprawled in an easy chair in front of the screen, engaged in a light sleep. “He got up early this morning and watched the news, but he hasn’t slept well for the last few nights. Must be catching up to him.” 

Daniel stirred gradually as Theresa began to rummage through the bookcase. He waved to Guy and watched his wife, flipping open the covers of identically bound albums and replacing them on the shelf until she found the one she wanted. Taking it from her outstretched hands, Guy stacked the book on top of the blanket folded in his arms.

“Are we ready to go?” Daniel asked. He pulled himself more upright. 

“You don’t want something to eat for breakfast?” Theresa asked.

“I ate earlier. Let’s go.”

…o0o…

Saint John’s was a smaller building of white stone that sat on the side of the river. The surroundings were much more peaceful than that of the other hospital, which was surrounded by busy streets. As they walked into the lobby, Guy admired the graceful, modern decorating in the tranquilly dim lighting. Every noise seemed hushed. When Daniel asked for the room number, Guy could barely hear him despite standing close to him. It relaxed Guy, but also unsettled him slightly. This type of silence suited two types of people: those who were resting and those who were dead. A shiver raced up his spine. Thomas had failed his suicide attempt, but they weren’t out of the woods yet.

Thomas’ room had only one bed, much to Guy’s delight. They could close the door and not worry what the rest of the world thought about them. When they reached the room, they found Thomas sleeping, slumped over in bed like he had fallen asleep sitting up. Guy walked soundlessly to his side, laying the photo album gently on the bedside stand and carefully unfolding the quilt to pull over Thomas. 

Thomas stirred once the blanket had been draped over him. He blinked awake, finding his parents seated by the foot of the bed and Guy leaning over him. He touched Guy’s arm and smiled weakly. “Hello,” he said. 

“Good morning,” Guy whispered back. Theresa smiled at him and patted his foot. Daniel gave him a tiny wave. 

“What time is it?” Thomas asked. “I’ve been sleeping since… I’m just so tired.”

“Almost eleven in the morning,” Guy said, sitting on the bed next to Thomas. “Had any good dreams?”

Thomas chuckled a little. “Not really. Mostly I’ve just been asleep.” 

“But Thomas!” Guy gasped, feigning shock. “You didn’t even dream of me?”

Thomas stuck his tongue out at him and laughed. “You goof.” His laughter fizzled out and he eyed his parents awkwardly. Both Theresa and Daniel got the hint and stood up. 

“Well it’s nearly lunchtime and we hardly ate breakfast. We’re going to go get lunch and leave you two alone for a few minutes to talk,” Daniel announced. “We’ll be back in about a half an hour.” He and Theresa left, closing the door behind them.

As soon as the door shut, Guy wrapped his arms around Thomas and pressed his nose into his curls. Thomas’ skinny arms held him tight, delicate fingers tangling in Guy’s silky hair. They stayed like that for a few long minutes, eyes closed, savoring the warmth of one another. Finally, Thomas pulled away, the corners of his eyes damp. 

“Why are you crying?” Guy murmured, dabbing the tears away with the corner of his shirt.

“Because I love you so much and I never thought this could happen,” Thomas replied softly. 

Guy snaked a protective arm around Thomas’ shoulders and squeezed him gently. “I understand. But from now on, I’ll always be here.”

Thomas made a noncommittal noise and played with the hem of the blanket. 

“What? What’s that for? I know that face, Thomas, you don’t believe me,” Guy said. 

Shrugging, Thomas bit his lip to keep from crying. “I just don’t think you can spend the rest of your life with me.”

“Why not?” Guy asked, more aggressively than he intended.

“Because I’m worthless and I’m bringing you down and you’ll see it someday,” Thomas sighed.

Guy pursed his lips and brought a hand to Thomas’ cheek, guiding his face until they were looking each other straight in the eyes. “The only way you bring me down is when you put yourself down,” he started, his voice low and decisive. “You are kind. You are talented. You are handsome. I’m not making this shit up, Thomas, so you can stop looking at me like that. I really think those things.”

“But Guy, you don’t know what you’re saying…” Thomas moaned, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Yes, I do!” Guy protested firmly. “Of course I know those things. I’ve known you for so long now, you can’t just say I’ve been friends with some person I made up in my head since middle school. And besides that, you didn’t always think like this. What changed, Thomas? Why do you attack yourself so much now?”

Thomas leaned into Guy’s embrace and squeezed his eyes shut. “I have no idea. I don’t know how this happened to me, Guy.” His shoulders shook. “I’m scared by it.”

Pulling him closer, Guy stroked Thomas’ back as he cried. It seemed that no one had the answers. Guy felt like crying just as badly, but he resisted the urge for Thomas’ sake. 

“Will I ever feel happy again?” Thomas blurted, speech distorted by hiccupping sobs. 

“Of course you will,” Guy reassured him. “I’ll make sure of that.” He paused for a moment. “Hey Thomas, what do you want more than anything else in the world?”

“What?” Thomas looked up at him, confused.

“Just trust me. What do you want more than anything else in the world right now?” Guy hoped it he wanted something simple, like a trip to Spain or some ice cream, rather than something less achievable, like world peace or a cure for all illnesses, otherwise his hastily made plan would fall flat on its face.

Thomas thought for a moment, his tears subsiding gradually. “Right now? Well, I’d really like to go swimming, actually,” he said calmly. “Yeah… I haven’t been to the beach in ages.” Guy saw the wistful thoughts behind his eyes, until Thomas turned to him with slightly furrowed brows. “Why do you ask?”

Guy shrugged. “I want to give you what you want. I can take you swimming as soon as you come home. Do you like the sound of that?”

Nodding, Thomas smiled. His smile grew dim slowly. “But will it fix me?”

“There’s not one solution, Thomas, and I think looking at everything in your life in terms of solutions is somewhat counterproductive. It’s just going to keep putting you in a negative headspace.” Guy stroked his back. “There are a lot of things that can be done, but the most important thing is to let yourself have fun.”

“Please don’t ever go, Guy,” Thomas whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too, forever.”


End file.
